


Ambush at Sea

by Buntheridon



Series: Tripping on Azerite [8]
Category: World of Warcraft
Genre: Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, Bondage, Dom Mathias, Dom/sub, Drinks, Elves, F/F, Friendship With Kinks, Humping Clothes On, M/M, Mage Nelf Player Character, Multi, Orgasm Delay, POV Second Person, Porn with thin plot, Shibari, Silencing With Several Items, Smut, Threesome Meets the Fourth, Tying, Vaginal Fingering, Voice Kink, Voyeurism, World of Warcraft - Freeform, World of Warcraft: Battle for Azeroth, or is it if it’s done in the open dunno, rogues - Freeform, ropes, silly similes and metaphors, you - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-05-26
Updated: 2019-05-26
Packaged: 2020-03-17 19:24:29
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,198
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18971503
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Buntheridon/pseuds/Buntheridon
Summary: Our friendly threesome is on a dry sea voyage guarding the Proudmoore family meeting, but after the work is done there's some time for entertainment. They also meet a new friend who seems a promising addition to the party. M/M under your suffering female gaze until F/F happens. So, kind of F/M also, eh?





	Ambush at Sea

 

 

_There really is nothing like the open sea._

_It’s alive yet inhuman, powerful and vast and equally devouring to everyone who might fall into its embrace. The Twisting Nether might win in expanse and depth but the sea is beautiful and tangible, unlike the endless emptiness. The winds caress and toss your hair as the ocean tosses the vessels and sea creatures alike, moody. It’s like a temperamental beast, masterless and forever untamed._

You’ve read _“Old Gnome and the Sea”_ twice now and you are beginning to get utterly bored. The occasional crew duties you’ve taken on to pass the time and to be of help do not really fill all the hours of the day. The tidesage has refused to spill his secrets to a lowly mage like you, so there’s not much intellectual entertainment on board.

Why haven’t you simply teleported home from this Kul Tiran ship? Well, there are reasons.

Nearly a week ago you along with Captain Flynn Fairwind and Spymaster Mathias Shaw met with Lord Admiral Jaina Proudmoore at the Boralus Harbor. It turned out that the secret mission you had been hinted at was to sail as far and to as unlikely place as the coast of Theramore Isle, now destroyed and uninhabited. On the journey Jaina and Shaw explained to you the whole mysterious tale: Baine Bloodhoof had asked to meet him in secret “to right a wrong done to Jaina’s family”, as the tauren chieftain’s neutral messenger Valeera Sanguinar had told them.

The whole trip there - and now these few days on the return journey - you and your lovers have behaved like you were only acquainted through work and the war, mainly to earn back the Lord Admiral’s respect and/or to make her not recall how she caught the three of you your pants down, like the old phrase goes.

It’s been a torture. Your cabins are far from each other and even when all three of you could sneak past the night crew with varying versions of invisibility, the most powerful mage on the whole of Azeroth would see through any spell you attempted. Jaina sometimes stayed up late watching the ocean. And as is his way, Master Shaw hasn’t shown any desires to step out from his official work-self. You and Flynn have whispered some ideas and plans and jokes along the trip but that’s it.

What was the secret meeting about? Well, that’s just it - it has affected you as well and made you downcast and moody. Baine had freed Jaina’s undeath-resurrected brother Derek from the clutches of Warchief Windrunner. Derek Proudmoore had been dead in the depths of the ocean for years and the Horde had seeked his body out recently to blackmail or infiltrate the Alliance. Such ruthless measures made anyone feel nauseous. The siblings had talked a lot and Derek seemed to prefer nighttime so his sister indulged him after the initial shock of him being an undead - or existing at all - had passed.

Today they have been talking at length on the deck.

“I know others who have been through this, Derek. I believe they can help you. Captain, Spymaster - Champion! I will entrust the ship to you to be delivered safely in Xibala, Zuldazar. There you will find further instructions once some other matters have been resolved elsewhere. I will now leave for Netherlight Temple with ...my brother. I trust you’ll take care of my ship and my crew. Is that clear?” Her voice is friendly but the little blink in her eye makes you realize your past misbehaviours haven’t yet been completely forgotten. You salute, without irony.

“Yes, ma’am! We’ll sail her home safe and sound.”

Flynn chuckles. “Emissary, I believe it will be _me_ who will do that, thank you very much for your mental support though.”

“Spymaster, I apologize for asking you to stay behind as well, but I believe the crew needs a high ranking officer to keep them in check - not saying I don’t trust Captain Fairwind here but it’s more a matter of protocol and safety, if you see my point.”

“I do, Lord Admiral. I’ll keep them on a leash.” You’re lucky that Lady Proudmoore is already conjuring up the portal - you and Flynn burst into laughter at Shaw’s choice of words and only barely pull yourselves together in time. Glancing at the assassin you notice he did do it on purpose. He has been very somber and joyless these days and this here is the first twinkle of humor in his demeanor. You curb your grin and try not to look at Flynn beside you.

After the Proudmoores have left you sort of exhale mentally, knowing you don’t have to be on your best behaviour all the time anymore. There are still a couple of days through the open sea and past the Maelstrom before you can expect to see land.

Come sundown you meet with Flynn at the captain’s cabin. The acting captain’s role suits your favorite ex-smuggler well. He’s dashing in his normal garbs as well but the Kul Tiran uniform makes you wet your lips. Nether and otherwise. His auburn long hair is tied back neatly and his moustaches look freshly trimmed.

“You in a mood for something more entertaining than this rum here or the only three books in the shelf, mate?” He opens the jacket and pours two shots of the liquor. You toast them together and drink up.

“Oh, absolutely. I had already started reading _maps_ with the ample time I’ve had here. That’s quite enough of nautical themes for me, I think. How do you propose we’ll bring the idea to him?”

“Simply. I will _order_ him.” You laugh seeing his handsome face with the crooked smile. The crew does as he tells them to but that’s the most authority he has ever had, being all jovial and easy-going as he is. His subordinates like him enough and are seasoned marine professionals, so the handling of the ship goes fairly smoothly. But to order around the most dominating person you’ve met? Nnnope.

“Captain? You asked for me.” Shaw’s deep baritone caresses your ears from behind. He has sneaked in the room like he always does, without a sound.

“Yes, Master Shaw. There’s an important task I will need to entrust to you.” You hide your snicker and pretend to dust off and adjust your Suramar-acquired clothes. It’s an elegant yet practical pantsuit with very mage-ish color tones of purple, wine red and light blue. It licks your curves like a second skin. Your excuse for it was you needed to climb a mast a few times.

“Indeed?” Oh, does he suspect already?

“Champion, you will guard the doorway. Shaw, I demand that you take me this instant.” His poker face is phenomenal, not a flinch, he just watches the other brunet straight in the piercing green eyes. Shaw chuckles.

“You’ve been on hot coals all this time, haven’t you? I’m almost proud of you both for behaving until now.”

“Like we had a choice. Jaina would have demoted me to a bilge rat if I did anything remotely recreational.”

“She’s still Lord Admiral to you, mage.” Shaw doesn’t move his gaze from the outlaw rogue who is starting to blush. _By the Light_ \- that’s adorable.

“Yes, _sire.”_ You let him hear your eagerness to obey with a maximum amount of taunting sass. Flynn opens the top buttons of his white shirt slowly, revealing the leather collar on his neck. You hear Shaw inhale. He looks at you and you pull the high neck of your tunic down just slightly, grinning. Yep, you too. That seems to be enough to entice the assassin - his eyes darken and the game is on.

“Very well. Champion, find a piece of clean, thin rope the length of ten yards.” He glances upwards and seems to approve the ceiling beams there.

“Already ahead of you, sir”, you smirk and point at the coil of silk cord on the captain’s table. He nods slowly, amused.

“I have a hunch you will need to suffer some nautical themes yet, emissary”, Flynn deduces.

“I’m sure this variety won’t bore me to sleep.” You move to the doorway and stay there like a sentinel. Shaw raises an eyebrow. “I promised him - he wanted… to have you alone. This once.” The assassin looks at his flushed captain who’s already taking off his jacket.

 _“Might not be just once.”_ His tone licks your imagination and you whimper. “Fine. Hero, try to be of use and put some wards in the anteroom. Your captain really cannot afford to lose any of the respect he has among the crew members here.”

“There’s nothing shameful in my tastes, Master Shaw, and you know it.”

“I do. But some of your people are superstitious and very strict on hierarchy.”

“That they are.”

You sneak to conjure some Arcane traps in the other room that’s the only route to the captain’s study. You return to a sight of Flynn taking off his boots and Shaw tossing a knotted end of the rope around a sturdy wooden beam above the doorway. Just the usual day in the life of a young Kaldorei mage on Azeroth.

The room is lit with several candles. The anteroom is dark behind you, the wards will alert if anyone approaches and at this time no-one would come here except in the direst of emergencies. The first mate Flynn left in charge will fare just fine. The ship will cruise half the sails up through the night and the weather is perfect: steady good wind, not too strong, not too weak. You could almost call it _fair wind,_ you grin, relaxing yourself to watch the boys play.

If only it were relaxing. The burn in your loins and your quickening heartbeat make you breathe fast. Shaw looks on as the captain undresses and he does it slowly, winking at you. He shakes the white shirt off his shoulders in full flirt and opens his belts - Flynn seems to prefer a lot of pockets and pouches around his waist - and drops them on the table. He rummages through one of the pouches and sets a small bottle of oil on the desk, casually, nothing peculiar here, folks. The Spymaster waits, his eyes on Flynn, the equally long ends of the rope in his hands. He slowly ties them in an intricate knot. The other man takes off the rest of his clothes and your pulse accelerates guessing what will happen. He is already half mast.

“Are you going to hang me on that?”, Flynn asks, eager.

“No.” Shaw turns to you, looking mischievous for a person that serious. _“Her.”_

_“What?”_

“Turn around. Hands behind your back.”

“But…” Oh, he is going to ruin your plans of furiously masturbating while watching them, the bugger. So unfair. And so _hot._ Your whole body purring you obey and he starts to entwine the rope around your wrists and arms. It feels almost like a tight suit being woven on you. He does it calmly and with precision.

“Ooh, that looks like… art. The Navy tried to do something like that to me once but… pfff.”

“You’ll find I’m not the Navy.” Shaw’s voice is a quiet, low rumble, tasting like danger.

The rope goes several times around both your biceps and your wrists, tying them together behind your back. With every new coil you feel yourself surrendering, falling into a state of relaxed yet throbbing euphoria. He moves to your front and the cord continues three, four times around your upper thighs individually. Shaw looks concentrated but you are convinced he still watches his surroundings. Your private trance could only be broken by a well-aimed amiable chatting.

“Oh, most definitely not. They couldn’t tie a knot to save their lives. I have this theory they actually wanted the smaller criminals to escape to cut the incarceration costs.”

Shaw yanks one bit of the rope and you are stuck, not exactly dangling from the ceiling but almost, which means you can’t move at all except swing to and fro with the sway of the ship. The ropes and knots are spread evenly. It feels comfortable and balancing, like a hug.

“I know, I could have simply ordered you to keep your hands where I could see them… but I think the captain deserves my undivided attention.”

Flynn is fully erect and smiling at you. Master Mathias takes a step backwards watching his handiwork and then turns his eyes to the captain. He lifts his hand on the leather collar around the other man’s neck and tugs at the metal ring. You see how Flynn is trying to look brave and not show how much he yearns just that.

”Do we need more rope? I could go fetch some, but I reckon I’m inadequately dressed for -” He’s cut off by Shaw’s two fingers pushing into his mouth.

“I have said this before. Too many quips, Fairwind.” His voice trickles like molten wax on your back. Burning, lovely, marginally harmful.

_“Ow oo ove em!”_

You see something change slightly. Flynn’s last attempt at joking turns into a sucking hold around the penetrating fingers, his breathing thickening; the rose on his cheeks deepens. When he closes his eyes and you see his tongue stick out, you whimper, glad your knees have the extra support of the binds now. You can _feel_ the submission settle on him.

Mathias pushes the fingers deeper in the other man’s mouth and watches intensely as he moans and sucks on them, cock twitching and weeping. There’s also a delicious bulge in the assassin’s pants. You draw in breath deeply and try to rub your thighs against each other for friction, but the damn ropes prevent that. You’re completely soaked, slick and sticky and you would like to get these pants off, thank you very much. Now with the ropes that chance has lessened even more. Whose idea was this? Oh, wait, it was _yours._

Shaw glances at you, flashing a smile, seeing his art has succeeded in enhancing your frustration. His other hand reaches Flynn’s backside, brushing the cleft between his buttocks. His voice is a low purr.

“This what you wanted, captain?”

Flynn breathes in through his nose and after a moment nods. You jolt, core burning, living through him.

“Champion, could we have that spell, please?”

“Oh, _now_ I’m useful?” You send the Arcane muscle relaxation spell on its way towards Flynn. Your heart beats fast as you watch the spymaster sink a finger in the captain, still gagging him with the other hand, watching his face closely a slightly predatory look on him, eyelids half closed. The surrendered captain whines and moans, saliva dripping on his chin, not knowing where to put his hands - which are _free,_ for fuck’s sake, _unlike someone else’s here._

Mathias delves the finger deeper, stretching Flynn’s back entrance. You grit your teeth, almost feeling it on yourself, remembering how it felt in Tol Dagor... or in Arathi. You imagine your lust a visible aura by now, shimmering and pulsing around you. It burns like fever, ebbs and flows, unresolved, ready to soar. You breathe through your mouth, trembling, fighting your ties.

”Fairwind, you easy piece of meat, try to at least give him a challenge.” Your voice is thick and hoarse. He cannot answer but he has a representative close by.

”The amount of challenge you’ve given us both is quite enough for this relationship, hero.”

”Really? Is that why you tied me, to keep me from bothering you? It’s not like I couldn’t Blink -”

”Steady now, champion, or I’ll have to silence you.”

”You only have two hands, sir, but of course other appendages would do _fine.”_ Oh, please, _please._

”Excuse me, captain.” There’s threat in his voice and you love it. Shaw pulls his fingers out and after wiping on a cloth takes something from his bag.

”I’m glad I confiscated a couple of other items from Tol Dagor.” It’s a strip of dark leather with a sort of a ball in the middle. Smiling gently he inserts it in your mouth. It’s sized to fill it completely and tying the strips behind your head secures the ball in place. You can only moan now, talking is impossible.

”Confiscated - you mean _smuggled!”_ Flynn rejoices, having his speech back.

”Now, Fairwind. Let’s show her what you wanted. Keep an eye on her, would you?”

Flynn fails to watch you squirm in your ties while Mathias takes the small vial of oil and pours some on his fingers, pulling his erection out from his leather pants without bothering to undress more. You whine in your throat when he spreads the oil on his length. Oh, how you would welcome that in you right now.

 _”Hands on the table.”_ The other man obeys, flustered, expectant. He leans on the side of the commander’s desk, long ponytail falling on his shoulder. He’s so beautiful, gasping, mumbling some pirate expletives when the spymaster slowly pushes his cock in him from behind. You have the perfect view, they’ve situated themselves so you’ll see everything. You’re swollen and dripping in your silk pants, a few strokes away from climaxing, yet no-one touches you.

Mathias thrusts slowly, letting Flynn get adjusted gradually, letting him taste the feel of his girth with no rush. You let out small, frustrated, wanting moans in the same rhythm as they move, the same time as Flynn does.

The assassin is again taking you both simultaneously.

After a while their pace speeds up and eventually they shag with such fervor you know they’ve also gotten off hearing and watching you. Shaw rams in fast, deep, and the fair captain still obeys, keeping his palms on the wooden surface, shaking. You know what agony it is not being able to touch yourself, and your instincts are on point - soon the captain cries in need.

 _“Shaw - please - please!”_ You stare at them mesmerized, core throbbing uselessly and alone, almost in pain, when the Spymaster takes pity on his partner. He bends forward and seizes Flynn’s twitching erection in his grip. Two wet tugs later the captain is spilling on the table, moaning, gasping. Shaw releases himself in him, less vocal but grunting audibly - you are sure it’s for your benefit. Or in this case, detriment. You’d kill for anything rubbing on you, and that’s not a figure of speech, knowing the amount of creatures that have fallen victim to your adventures around Azeroth and other worlds.

_“Well, well, this explains the interesting dynamic between the three of you. No wonder.”_

You jerk in your tight harness when you hear the soft, deep female voice speak in Thalassian very close to your ear. The traps haven’t gone off and you didn’t hear a thing - _Shaw_ didn’t hear a thing. Admittedly you _were_ pretty engaged in the scene in front of you and so was he, but still. Lithe but strong hands grip your waist, not too forcibly, it’s more like a caress. You don’t really fight it - the other elf doesn’t feel threatening.

 _“I could give you a hand if you wanted”,_ her lips craze your earlobe and Shaw is right there in front of you like a blinking mage. You are mildly surprised that he managed to tuck himself back in his pants.

 _“Sanguinar.”_ Oh, it’s _that_ elf.

“Shaw. You treat your friend here very badly”, she scolds him, switching to Common. You remember seeing Valeera occasionally at the Wrynn court. Very attractive, very skillful, trustworthy but nonaligned when it came to the two major factions. What _is_ this, are you a walking rogue magnet of some sort? Not that you are complaining, far from it. The Spymaster examines your face, your small yet telling reactions, shifts his gaze back to the blood elf and nods.

“I do. And she enjoys it. Are you a stowaway?” Laughter bubbles in your throat, you are wired and tense like a hunter’s bowstring right before the shot. Valeera pushes her thigh between yours from behind and you moan around the gag.

“I apologize for barging in on your little game but this poor night elf seemed to be in dire need of some ...help.” Ignoring the question she switches back to your shared elven tongue. _“Nod if you want me to stay, girlfriend.”_ Like you would even consider sending her away, her hand edging lower, sneaking under the silky waistline and on the skin of your belly. You nod vigorously.

Shaw grunts in agreement and returns to where the outlaw rogue is gathering himself. The game changes but the new player intrigues you immensely. Flynn’s eyes twinkle watching you and your new companion.

“Is it appropriate to call this a shebang yet?” he grins widely. Shaw grips his jaw and out of the blue kisses him on the mouth.

“You’ve been with them for a while, haven’t you? Lucky girl. They seem devoted.” She takes off the ball gag and presses one palm against your chest, between your collar bones and your breasts, balancing. Her wandering fingers find your soaked clitoris in your likewise soaked pants.

“Oh, _sister”,_ the Sin’dorei sighs. You cry out. The slow motion of her digits over your nub, her nose and soft lips brushing your collared neck have you shivering on the threshold of ecstasy.

 _“Elune,_ just look at your men. They are gorgeous”, she marvels, nodding towards the two red moustaches devouring each other in a very interesting post-coital snogging. It’s not been Shaw’s habit to pamper either of you. Maybe he’s just silencing Flynn - or entertaining you?

“Oh, I don’t even - I can’t watch that anymore. I’ll - _burst.”_

 _“Then you burst. And after that another time. And then a few more times, if you like.”_ Whispering by your ear she circles your oversensitive bud so deliciously you feel the long overdue torrent enclose on you. Shutting your eyes you lean back, let the other elf whisk you away with a touch that knows exactly what to do, slippery and fast and agile. You wail jerking against her, throbbing intensely, finally unleashed. You hear Flynn inhale with a moan and it’s like throwing oil onto the flames, you soar up again and Valeera’s fingers urge you onward, rubbing you through another orgasm that spreads to your every limb and cell and tips of your hair.

_“Anar’alah. You are beautiful, Emissary of the Alliance.”_

When you open your eyes you see the men watching you transfixed, side by side leaning on the table, Flynn still in his birthday suit. He might or might not be halfway erect again.

Valeera releases you from the ropes fast and efficiently, which results a brow raise from the artist himself.

”Not bad, Shaw. I know who taught you these.”

Once free you turn around to face her and _oh,_ how beautiful she is, with her long flowing blonde hair and sharp green gaze. Your eyes lock and no more than four seconds are wasted - she lunges at you and kisses you deep, sinking her fingers in your hair and her thigh between yours. Your back hits the cabin wall and you moan, so hungry for touches after this torment.

Valeera smells like a flowery field in a summer evening, making you miss Eldre’thalas in passing. The nostalgia is swept aside by the softness of her tongue in your mouth. You whine in your throat. It’s good, it’s _so, so good._ The soft press of her breasts against yours through the thin silk feels heavenly. You want to touch them, and you start finding a way under her tight protective leather top with your fingers. She breaks the kiss and stops your hands, whispering against your lips.

_“Later. This one’s for you.”_

Your hands settle on her narrow waist. You kiss and kiss and kiss, tasting and exploring - without the tickle of facial hair, you realize in a haze of bliss - and you move against each other in growing frenzy, Valeera’s toned thigh rubbing your crotch through both your clothes. She has this air of dominance that you adore, more subtle than Shaw’s, a determined grip on you and your pleasure. Has she been watching you for long, throughout the whole journey even? You don’t feel like strangers with her, it’s like she knows what you prefer ...and you haven’t even undressed. The friction of her thigh, her teasing teeth on your lower lip and her hands pressing on your bum have you sighing over a final climax that leaves you satisfied and purring.

 _“Ande'thoras-ethil”,_ she murmurs smiling at you - and vanishes.

You hear a deep sigh and look at the two men in the room. Shaw is watching you all stoic, arms crossed, a bulge in his leather breeches. Flynn, likewise erect and still completely starkers, seems to ponder if it’s considered good form to masturbate right there. You smile widely, bubbling with endorphins and joy, and wink at your lovers.

“What’s with all you rogues, eh?”

You will sleep very lightly from hereon with the awareness of your new friend and her unseen presence on the sea voyage.

 


End file.
